He glances sideways at me and flashes a brilliant smile. Even though my body is dead, a well known fact for vampires, I keep wondering how so many human emotions can be so strong. Although, fear and panic have been the most dominant since I’ve become…like this. But now, simmering underneath a blanket of fears, is glee.
A white lighted sign with green and orange letters reads “Little Havana’s.” Empty tables line the sidewalk outside the small restaurant. “Want to sit outside?” Dillan asks.
“Yeah. I’ll wait out here while you order,” I say as I take a seat, claiming one of the tables.
“Are you sure you don’t want anything? They have amazing plantains.”
“No, thank you.”
“Okay, but I bet when you see my dinner, your mouth will instantly start to water.” He grins and I notice the slight crease at the corner of his mouth.
And, I can’t help the long awaited smile that forms on my lips. I’m surprised they remembered how to form the small gesture. “Really, I’m fine.” If he only knew my mouth is already primed to eat, but it isn’t craving plantains. The throbbing pulse in his neck is what I want to sink my teeth into.
“Okay then.” He nods, combs his fingers through his spiky, sandy blond hair, turns and walks into the restaurant.
A couple walks by, hand in hand, laughing and giggling to themselves. Envy overrides the sliver of happiness until I see Dillan come out of the restaurant holding a drink and a white Styrofoam box. He sits down across from me. Immediately the scents of pork and black beans drift up from the box as he opens the lid. My gut gurgles in disgust and I look away.
He picks up his fork and says, “So?”
“What?” I ask, baffled.
He stabs the pork. “What do you do?” he asks, then puts the piled fork in his mouth.
Besides kill people? Hmmm…not much. “Nothing at the moment, just trying to get settled in.” I’ve never been great at lying, but it seems by his reaction, I succeeded this time.
He nods and takes another bite. “Do you go to college?”
“No.”
“Work?”
I shake my head. “No, not right now.”
“Taking a mini retreat?”
“Something like that.”
He takes a couple more bites and asks if I want a bite.
“No, I’m good.” I want the attention off me and on him. “Do you go to college?”
With a full mouth of food, he nods.
“Work?”
“Yep, that too.”
“Let me guess, you’re a lifeguard.”
Dillan laughs and the sound is deep with light waves of delight floating through it. “No, but my work is in the ocean.”
“Oceanography, fascinating,” I say.
A slanted grin eases over his mouth. “Wrong again, Miss Jasmine. Do you want to try for number three?”
“I think I’m going to stop while I’m this far behind.”
“First, you should never give up. Second, I’ll tell you if you tell me something first.”
A swift boot of panic kicks my gut. I force a smile and hope that I’m able to play along. “Okay.”
“Are you seeing anyone?”
Whew, an easy one. “No.”
He smiles, nods, and takes another bite of his food. “That’s good to know.” He looks up through thick lashes at me as he wraps his mouth around the straw and sucks. The simple gesture inflames something within me and heat settles deep inside of me. “I’m a surfing instructor.”
“Aren’t the waves in Florida a bit small?”
“Not for the kids I work with.”
“Kids?”
“Yeah, by day I work with children with autism, teaching them how to surf. And at night, I’m working on my master’s degree for teaching.”
What is he, a saint? And I wonder what the hell is wrong with him. Or with the women he’s dated. “How did you get involved with that?”
Without answering my question, he says, “I do have one warning for you about me.”
Instead of fear, my curiosity spikes. “Okay.”
“If you get me talking about this subject, I usually don’t shut up until someone slaps me out of my zone.”
I laugh. Another genuine laugh. And the feeling exhilarates me. “Thank you for the warning, but I think I’ll take the risk.”
“You asked for it.” He puts down his fork and rubs his hands together. “Since I can remember, I’ve lived at the beach. So I learned how to surf, kite-surf, paddle board, basically anything that I could do in the water, I learned. When I was sixteen I was out surfing, it was really early, and hardly anyone was on the beach. But, there was this mom and her son. I guessed he was about nine or ten. Each time I looked at him, he was pointing at me, so being the nice guy I am,” he pauses and grins, “I walked up to them and asked him and his mom if he wanted to try to surf. She told me he had autism and she wasn’t sure if he would go. I wasn’t sure what that was at the time, but I remember so clearly bending down and looking at him. He didn’t return the eye contact. I asked him if he wanted to try. He didn’t say anything, only pointed out to the ocean. I told his mom I’d stay close to the shore. When she gave me the go ahead, I lead him out to the water and lifted him onto the board. He straddled it at first, but almost immediately he wanted to stand. I helped him of course. A smile like I have never seen before and a sound of joy like nothing I have ever heard came from him.
“I looked at his mother, wanting to reassure her he was okay. When her eyes met mine, she put her hands over her mouth and even from the water I could see the tears streaming down her cheeks. I wasn’t sure what I had done, but whatever it was I wanted to do it again.” Dillan pauses and takes a sip of his drink. “So, three or four days a week I would meet them there, Tricia and Patrick. He’s seventeen now, and he’s my best friend, and he’s a great surfer.”
“That truly is amazing.”
“Yeah, it really is.”
“Aren’t you afraid of sharks?” He stands and lifts the side of his shirt. A scar about five inches long runs parallel along a chiseled side. “Is that from a shark?”
“No, it’s from my little sister.” He chuckles. “If I can survive her, I can survive anything.”
Laughter again breaks through my thick surface. “Looks like she doesn’t like you much.”
“She is a professional knife thrower, and idiot that I am, I challenged her one day. Needless to say, I lost. She made her point that she was better at throwing knives than me by skimming my flesh with her favorite one. So, twenty-seven stitches later and a declaration from me, that she was indeed right, made her smile.”
Consumed by this amazing guy sitting across from me, I forget about feeding until he stretches his neck from side to side and I see his vein pulsing blood throughout this body.
“See, I told you I wouldn’t shut up.”
“No worries, I’m really enjoying it…here…with….” I trail off as a sense of dreaded recognition comes over me and I glance up and look over Dillan’s shoulder. A man stands on the other side of the street. Nonchalantly, he looks at his watch and then back to me. Only half of his face is visible, the other half is hidden in the shadows of the building he’s leaning against.
I haven’t been certain of anything in this new life, until now. He’s the man that has been invading my mind with the brief glimpses of his face. And now he’s here, standing only fifty feet from me. I need to talk to him. He must know something about me. About who I was, how I ended up on the island, but, most importantly, how did I end up a monster?
Without a word, I bolt out of my chair and run toward him. When I reach him, he’s gone, a shadow stolen by darkness.
Chapter 8
I want to scream or hit something, or both.
“Are you okay?”
Within seconds, Dillan is behind me. He rests his hand on the small of my back and I flinch. No one has touched me in so lo
ng, and I don’t know if I welcome it or want to flee.
I turn and look into those beautiful hazel eyes. “I just thought I saw someone I know.”
He nods, not in complete understanding, but a kind gesture that suggests he’s compassionate. “Come on, let’s get you home.”
With his hand still on my lower back, we walk across the street. “Listen,” he starts, “do you want to come over tomorrow night for pizza and a movie?”
I’m not sure how far I want this to go, but again, my mouth speaks before my brain completely processes the situation. “What time?”
“Eight?”
“Okay.”
We walk the few blocks back to the apartments, side by side. Occasionally our shoulders touch and our hands linger the couple seconds extra when they touch. In only a couple short hours, I have fallen for a guy who is kind, generous, sensitive, daring, and fucking hot. Why now? Why when I can’t have him? Or be with him—for like, eternity? Why couldn’t I have met him when…my thoughts trail, because I don’t know when when was.
He walks me to my door. This time through the corridor, we walk side by side. I guess the small amount of time to get to know each other, well him, constitutes touching.
An awkward moment flits by and then it’s gone when he says, “Tomorrow night then.” That brilliant smile does something to my body, and that scares the hell out of me.
“Okay.” At the release of the word, it starts pouring outside like I gave the sky the okay to open up.
“That was good timing,” Dillan says.
“Yeah. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Make sure you lock up,” he says.
The apartment smells old and stale when I walk in. Its scents are stronger since I’ve been outside in the fresh air. I close the door behind me, reminiscing as a million thoughts flounder around in my head about Dillan, my hunt, and the murders I’ve committed. But, my thoughts keep straying back to Dillan. He truly is a remarkable person, and not to mention hot.
The latch on his door clicks and the deadbolt slides into place.
I need to feed.
My throat burns for blood and my insides feel as though they are caving in on themselves. Throughout my time with Dillan, I was only vaguely aware of my hunger, my need for energy. I also can’t deny my desperate need to feel my senses come fully alive again.
The hall is warmer than the apartment, but I rub the chills from my arms anyway. As I ease out into the hall, I can hear Dillan rustling around in his apartment, and then the sound of soft piano music starts to play from inside. I linger for a few moments, listening to melodic sounds before going to hunt.
The rain has stopped, but it’s not done quite yet. There’s a slight breeze from the ocean that carries the scent of salt air and instantly I’m taken back to the island. I close my eyes and let the shudders of isolation race through me until I hear voices. I’m not sure how many blocks I’ve walked, but since I took another left at the intersection Dillan warned me about the first night, the scenery shifts from the condos on the beach and the quaint restaurants lining the streets to cracked sidewalks and dark alleys.
No human could possibly hear the voices I pick up, not even the two hookers standing at the entrance to the alley. When I hear the spoken words, I realize I have found my next meal.
“Come on, suck it, you whore.” Slap! “You keep slacking like that, it’s gonna take more than that lazy mouth of yours to get me off.” The man’s agitated tone is trimmed with humor and dominance.
Low cries and gagging noises get louder the closer I get to them. I peek around the dumpster and when I see them I wish my eyesight was more like a bat’s than a hawk’s. Dark lines of mascara run down a thin girl’s face and fall onto her loose midriff tank top. Her eyes are shut tight while her nails claw into the flesh of her bare thighs. A man, probably in his mid to late twenties stands over her. His one hand is on the wall above her head, while the other grabs her head and forces his shaft deeper into her throat.
“Yeah, that’s better. Come on, baby, show me how bad you want your little rocks. Remember how good I make you feel?” A devilish satisfied smile spreads across his face as he uses his ace card to win her over.
The girl, maybe sixteen at most, hums with a begging cry, “Mmm…hmmm….” and tries unsuccessfully to nod.
A sick feeling overcomes me and I back away from them and lean against the wall. If I take him, it will be his blood filling me, and the thought makes me want to throw up. I take a deep, un-needed breath and gather every ounce of control I can and do what I know I was created to do: kill. Shifting my focus from what or who my prey is, I concentrate on the writhing hunger inside me.
Soundlessly, I come out from hiding and walk behind the man. I’m standing so close to him, but he’s so consumed with his goal of cumming in the girl’s mouth that he doesn’t hear me. The heated stench coming off his body reeks of sweat, sex, and cologne.
I wrap one arm around his neck and drag him backwards, ripping him away from the girl. Even in my weakened state, it’s easy to force him around to look at me. His eyes show nothing but fear. His stupid mouth on the other hand tries to make up for the panic raging through him.
“What the fuck do you want, bitch?” he spits.
I purposely linger before giving him an answer; enjoying the rush of adrenaline that I can feel pounding through his veins, racing side by side with his blood. The stubbles on his face partially hide the redness gathering in his cheeks as he tries to break out of my grip.
Grinning, I realize death is exactly what this piece of shit deserves. “Come on, baby, show me how bad you want me to let you live,” I say in a low gritty voice.
His eyes widen and he thrashes to get free. “What the fuck do you want? There’re four bags of the shit in my front pocket. Take it!”
“Aww, you’re so sweet. You’re not going to make me suck your dick for them?” I tilt my head, and offer a rueful smile. I look at the girl behind me. She’s curled into a ball and whimpering. I turn back to look at the dealer. “But that’s not what I want.”
“Then what?” He reaches hysteria, and his breathing skips from one breath to the next.
“Take off your shirt,” I tell him as I feel my teeth sharpen into position.
“What the fuck? Let me go! No! Leave me alone!”
“Then, I’ll do it,” I say as I rip the fabric away from his chest and shove it into his mouth.
The cords in his neck are primed for me to feed. I lean in and bite as a light rain begins to fall. His blood, laced with adrenaline, rapidly flows into my mouth and down my throat. Senses that haven’t been at their heightened point in days come alive, and even more so than in the shower, I feel each drop of rain kiss my skin.
My starvation subsides as I suck him dry. I let his useless body crumple to the ground. Thankful for the rain falling harder now, I wash my mouth, cleansing the filth of him off me.
I turn and look down at the girl. Her hands are cupped over her mouth to silence a scream. I should take her life, too, put her out of her misery, knowing she’ll be someone else’s sex toy the next time she wants to get high. But I don’t. And, judging by her state, she’ll never tell a soul of what she saw tonight.
I kneel and reach in the dealer’s front pocket, take out the four small bags of rocks and crush them into dust.
On the way out of the alley, I look up into the downpour. Millions upon millions of droplets fall from the black sky, and I can see each one of them and even hear each small bead break apart as they splatter to their death on the ground.
My only thought now is to find the man that haunts my memory.
Chapter 9
Not sure what I look like, even after wiping the blood off my face, I keep my head down as I walk through the almost deserted streets. I feel like I could run laps around the city, run through the street, and scream. Scream for the life I lost and the death I’m trapped in. Why does his face, his beautiful face
keep haunting me? What connection does he have to my past, or future?
The city begins to stir and the sun prepares to meet the world as I reach the condominium. The fine grains of sand tickle my toes and a small giggle escapes my lips. I look down the beach and a surfer in the water catches my eye. His lean body and toned legs straddle the board as he rides the lake-like waves. He, Dillan, is the most tranquil vision I have ever seen.
A dog barks and my attention shifts to my left. A man walks a small poodle about a hundred feet down the beach. The small yapping dog pulls from the leash toward my direction; its animal instincts are in tune with mine. I take one last look at Dillan and then sneak back into the apartment through the back.
***
When I wake, it’s seven-thirty. Dillan expects me at eight. Regret sparks for a moment for accepting his invitation, but then anticipation and eagerness flash in its place. I rush to take a shower and get ready. The woman who lives here doesn’t offer me the most flattering selection of clothes, but I take more care in finding a shirt that doesn’t have the word grandma on it.
Finally, settling on a long loose black skirt, light yellow tank and flip-flops, I take another look in the mirror. My ghostly reflection looks pretty and refreshed. I find a clip in the drawer and put up my hair, leaving a few long strands around my face and neck. A brief glimpse of an image from long ago stills in my head for a brief few seconds, and this person in the mirror feels familiar for the first time in months. Then as instantly as the image came it flees and I’m staring at the faded pretty girl in the mirror.
I take a deep breath, a breath I don’t need but from some other place and time, feels right. Three knocks and five seconds later, Dillan stands in front of me. His face beams with delight and the small crease by his mouth outlines his smile. Chiseled cheekbones and a strong jaw are smoothly shaven while his eyes look darker than they did last night.
Delicate Thorns Page 4
